


There Will Be No Encore

by Writefuck



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: F/M, Jailbait, POV First Person, Phase Two (Gorillaz), Present Tense, Size Difference, dubiously safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writefuck/pseuds/Writefuck
Summary: Noodle picks you out of the crowd, and somehow you wind up backstage after the concert, invited into the mischievous girl's dressing room...
Relationships: Noodle (Gorillaz)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	There Will Be No Encore

**Author's Note:**

> For /aco/. Contains sex between a musician and a fan under false pretenses. Contains sex with a minor which is otherwise consensual; partner is of unspecified age.

It's 2005 and you've been invited backstage. You have no idea how this happened.

You've never been to a concert before so you didn't really know what to expect. Murdoc spent half the concert with his tongue hanging out like a hyena impersonating Gene Simmons. 2D had been clutching the microphone stand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the real world. Russel was the most poised and composed person on stage, like the foundation holding the building up. And then there was Noodle, the child prodigy now teenaged, hooping around like a hyperactive child. She had been wearing that same impossibly tight white outfit from the DARE music video, shredding her guitar like she had a vendetta. Even in between sets she barely slowed down, jumping around and pumping up the crowd, as if the fans' adulation was the source of her power. Her energy and charisma were infectious, and no one was immune.

In the middle of Feel Good Inc, Noodle the rock goddess had locked eyes with you. Looking back now, you think it must been your imagination. She had just been looking out into the crowd, right? But her gaze had lingered, and for an instant you had imagined something personal between you. She had smiled at you, but then she's always smiling. A smile was just a smile. Noodle had a natural talent to make everyone think, "wow, she really loves me!" A glance and a smile didn't mean anything.

You had looked away, because instinct told you it was rude to stare. But that was dumb because she was a rockstar performing on stage; the whole point was for the audience to look at her. So you looked back, and she was still watching you. You'd found yourself unable to look away, and as the song ended, she mouthed one word, clear and unmistakable, directed at you and you alone.

"Later."

Later didn't mean goodbye, as in, "see ya later." It was an invitation, as in, "come and see me later!" Somehow, you just knew. So now that the concert is over, you wander towards the back, where a small line of people are waiting for some backstage event. Maybe they're members of the press? Everyone in the line has a badge with a big shiny sticker on it, something which you most definitely do NOT have. A bouncer the size of a silverback gorilla is keeping the crowd at bay, waiting for whatever thing is about to start, when a roadie approaches him and whispers something into his ear. The roadie and the bouncer turn towards you, and the roadie points. You stare at them stupidly, turning pale. You aren't really supposed to be here, but surely you can't get in trouble just for standing in the wrong line… right?

"Hey you!" says the bouncer, shouting a little to be heard over the background noise. He's clearly addressing you. "Yeah, you. Come to the front."

The rest of the crowd grumbles and glares at you, confused more than angry. You hesitate for a moment, half expecting to find out the bouncer was actually talking to somebody else. But there's just empty space behind you. Mechanically, with your heart racing, you make your way to the front, the small crowd begrudgingly making way. As you get within a few feet of the roadie, he points to a hallway leading off to the left.

"Room 4," he says. "The one with the Japanese on it. Don't mind if you hear shouting from #1 or #2, that's just Murdoc having his post-concert screaming match with 2-D. And if the shouting stops, that just means Russell broke it up."

You stand there stunned for a moment. You understand all the individual words he said, but they don't go together in a way that makes sense. You think about it for roughly ten million years, before realizing the implication of what you've been told. Noodle, the girl who you've been watching shake her body all up and down the stage for the past hour, just invited you into her dressing room. This isn't a "meet the band" sort of thing, this is just Noodle, the rockstar, and you.

Eventually you remember how to walk and head down the hallway you've been directed towards. You've never been backstage before, so you don't know what to expect. It's quieter back here – must be some soundproofing in the walls. You pass by door #1 and hear somebody with a cockney accent not-so-quietly ranting to himself about how stupid someone else is. You pass by door #2, and hear a quiet rattling. Sounds like… a bottle of pills being shaken? Door #3 is quiet, though you can see the lights are on and you think you smell weed. And finally you come to door #4. Someone has pinned a small Japanese flag onto it and there's a name on the door written in Kanji. You don't know Japanese, but you can guess what it says.

"節"

"Noodle" 

Your heart is beating at about a thousand beats per minute as you stand at the door, trying not to explode. Time slows down and it's about a million degrees in here. You're too nervous to even sweat. You think you might die. What the hell are you doing here?

You knock twice on the door, quietly but firmly. It might be the single coolest thing you've ever done in your entire life.

"Oh? Is that the cutie from B-17?" Noodle's voice is like honey, deeper than you expected from a Japanese teenager, but you guess that comes with being a practiced vocalist. Her English is accented, but clear, and instantly sounds friendly. You can hear the smile in the tone of her voice. You realize she probably wants an answer. Shit, how long has it been? You don't want to waste her time. Say something!

"Yesss?"

Damn it, why did that come out as a question?

"Okay! Don't just stand out there, come into the room!"

For the second time tonight your brain completely forgets how to put words together. The roadie had basically implied you were invited inside, but somehow you never thought you'd actually be allowed in there. That isn't something that just… happens. At least not to you. Eventually you remember how doorknobs work, and you open the door. You're quiet and slow, like a kid creeping through the house at night trying not to wake up mom and dad.

The room is rectangular and bigger than you expected. You smell incense, but you aren't sure from where. Noodle is sitting at a vanity mirror in the back left corner of the room. She looks like she's removing makeup, but with her left hand she's silently tapping out a rhythmic beat on the counter. She's still wearing the tight white pants and t-shirt, but she's discarded her shoes somewhere. There's a couch behind her, against the right wall, with a coffee table in front of it. The table is strewn with loose papers, some of it sheet music, the rest looking like song lyrics or maybe poetry. Noodle's guitar is hanging on a guitar stand right by the door, and the thing radiates some kind of energy that frankly terrifies you. Noodle is an expert, a master of her craft, and that guitar is the implement of a craftsman. Being near it is like being near some huge industrial machine. You feel like it could crush you at any moment.

"Please close the door," she says. You do as you're told, without hesitating like an idiot this time. She gestures for you to sit down, and you find yourself staring at her reflection in the mirror as you seat yourself on the couch behind her. Her seat elevates her a little above you, so she's looking down at you in the reflection. Somehow, it feels appropriate. Although she has her back to you, her reflection smiles warmly and your heart melts a little.

There's a long silence. Outside, you hear a distant door slamming, followed by cockney shouting. Another door slam, and the shouting becomes muffled. Noodle isn't phased, still playing an imaginary chord with her free hand. You notice she's humming to herself, so quietly that only she can properly hear it. You guess this is how she's multitasks.

Noodle finally breaks the near-silence and asks, "So. What did you think of the concert? Tell me honestly!" The question is… open. You aren't sure how to answer. You liked it, but you can't just say _that_. That's a non-answer. That's what you say when someone asks how you feel about your preferred breakfast cereal. Noodle is a musician and a singer and a writer and a poet and damn it you have to say more than just "good." She's expecting you to spout something pithy, something she hasn't already heard from every critic and every review.

"I liked it," you say. 

God damn it.

"It was… good," you continue, "Really good. The best concert I've ever been to. Hands down. I loved it."

That wasn't much better, and thankfully she doesn't know how small your sample size is. But she laughs, energetic and cheerful. Her smile broadens and her eyes twinkle. 

"Everybody wants to say, 'I liked it.' But no one ever says exactly that! Everyone wants to act like music and art is a big puzzle. They have to pick it apart until there isn't any joy left! At the end of the day, I just want to make something that I like. And if other people like it too, that's wonderful!"

Instinctively, you laugh. This whole situation is surreal. You have no idea how you managed to get back here, and somehow your blurted out non-answer was exactly the right thing to say to make her happy. And she's still smiling at you in the mirror as you laugh at nothing. 

"So why did you invite me back here?" you manage to ask. "Not that it isn't awesome to get to actually meet you directly."

"Oh, did Clive not tell you? He has major hang-ups! In the crowd, you looked like someone who was down to earth and gentle. I want you to be my boyfriend tonight!"

"Boy… friend…?" you stammer. For the third time your brain is doing that thing where words aren't forming sentences properly. You continue staring blankly into Noodle's mirror as she stands and walks closer to you. She shoves the coffee table aside with a surprisingly forceful kick, and you snap out of it as she locks her gaze with you directly.

"I hope that is okay," she says with a shy smile. "At the last two concerts, the guy freaked out. He had to be dragged out by security. I didn't even take all of my clothes off!"

"Aren’t you a little… young?" you say, trying to get the mental image of the naked girl out of your head. The word 'boyfriend' is vague, surely your mind is just in the gutter. She can't mean what you think she means.

"I am not a little kid!" she says. "Murdoc and 2-D fuck groupies in their dressing rooms all the time. Sometimes I can hear it through the walls! There is no reason that I can't do the same. I have needs too!"

You're staring each other down, as your brain searches in vain to find a way to explain why you shouldn't do this. Her eyes are still twinkling, and she's got that wide, beautiful smile. You realize she's blushing a little, too. Your heart has been racing this entire time, and you can tell hers is too.

Logic says this is a bad idea, but right now logic is losing a war of attrition with the tent in your pants. You spent the last hour staring at this girl's butt on-stage, and now she seems half-ready to jump right into your lap. Finally your body reaches a conclusion before your mind is all the way there, and you nod. But she hesitates, waiting for something more concrete from you.

"Okay," you finally manage to say. "I'd love to be your boyfriend tonight."

In an instant she's on her knees and she doesn't waste any time. She reaches for your belt and undoes it in a single deft movement. Has she done this before? Your pants are unzipped and the tent you were pitching is restrained only by your boxers now. She makes an over-the-top "Ooh!" face, which you're sure is just for show but it works anyway. She gently gropes you with one hand and you're totally paralyzed.

"Relax," she says, "I will take care of you. There is only one rule, okay? You have to warn me if you are close. Okay?"

"Okay," you mumble, with another nod. You still aren't really sure if this is actually happening, but you aren't about to argue with her. She slides your pants and underwear down until your cock springs free. If her head had been any closer it would have slapped her in the face.

"Me likey," she says hungrily. She grips the base, slowly massaging your shaft as she licks her lips. "I sure know how to pick them, right?"

You start to answer to the affirmative, but then she pops her head forward and takes you into her mouth. Suddenly your universe exists inside of Noodle, a realm of heat, wetness, and gentle humming. The outside world fades away as her lips slide down, then slowly back upward until only the tips are around you. She finishes the maneuver with an adorable "mwah!" as she kisses the head of your cock.

"…holy shit," you manage to say.

"Remember," she said, pointing a finger scoldingly with her free hand. "You have to warn me if you are going to cum. Right?"

"Right," you say as you nod again. At this point you'd sign your life away just for more of that.

She adjusts her sitting position so her head hovers directly above your crotch, before opening her mouth wide. She even goes, "aaah!" like a checkup at the dentist, before descending onto you. You can tell she's struggling just a little – you're average in size but she's only fifteen, and she's small. Her head bobs up and down, her petite lips covering you with an extended, loving embrace as her tongues guides you all the way down to the back of her throat. You expect her to pull back with a gag, but she lets out only the slightest hint of a wheeze before swallowing you completely.

The inside of her throat is tight and her insides convulse as she takes you as deep as she can manage. Her lips reach the bottom of your shaft and she's forced to use both hands on your thighs to keep her balance. Instinctively you brush her hair out of her face, and you didn't know it was possible for a girl to smile while chocking on cock, but damn if she doesn't manage it. 

Finally she pulls up, and she coughs a little as you exit her throat. She opens her lips but you're still half inside her mouth as she gasps a breath of air. Her tongue is still going to town on you and you've never even heard of someone multitasking like this. You guess it's just another one of her many talents. 

She wraps her lips back around you and starts to really go to town. She's slurping and bobbing and you're pretty sure her face would be a mess of running makeup if she hadn't removed it earlier. Her drool is going all over your crotch and all you can do is hold onto her head for dear life. Finally you feel the end coming, and instinct tells you to grab her head and hold her down until you've spurted every drop you have directly into her stomach – but no, this is Noodle and you were given clear instructions that you aren't about to disobey.

"Stop- stop!" you say, and she pulls off of you. Her lips make one final caress against you as she leans back, breathing heavily. You're so close to cumming, you're afraid you might spurt if she so much as looks as your dick. You stare up at the ceiling and count to ten, imaging that Noodle isn’t still kneeling on the ground I front of you, imagining that your manhood isn't still covered in her saliva.

Eventually the world stops spinning, and dare a glance back at Noodle. Her eyes are wide with anticipation – she's already caught her breath and she's waiting to see if you're ready to keep going. You don't even know how to form words right now, but your twitching cock is ready for more. You give her a single nod, and she nods back.

Noodle stands up and shyly turns away from you. "I was worried for a minute that you might finish in my mouth. Then we would not be able to get to the fun part." She's gripping the hem of her t-shirt, and pulls it up over her head.

You can see her in the mirror, her smooth stomach and her tiny A-cup breasts. She's not wearing a bra but it's not like she needs one. Even though she's stripping like two feet in front of you, you feel like a pervert looking at her as she undresses. You focus on her back instead. Her perfectly smooth skin, her lithe curves and angular shoulder blades… and then she turns back to face you, her arms covering her chest. 

"Do you think I'm sexy?" she asks innocently. For the first time tonight the answer comes to you instantly.

"Sexy doesn't do it justice."

She smiles, and unzips her jeans. Your cock twitches again, still soaking wet from her earlier performance. She turns away, showing off her petite rear as she slowly slides her jeans down. Her panties are white with little red stars on them, and as she bends over to free herself from her jeans, you can see that her crotch is nearly as wet as yours is right now. 

She kicks her pants to the side and they land near the previously discarded table. She stands before you now, her hands clasped behind her back, feet spread shoulder-width apart, wearing nothing but her underwear. It's a practiced pose you might have seen on a magazine cover, except this time she doesn't have any clothes on. 

After a moment she steps towards the couch and lowers herself into your lap, straddling you. She's sitting on your legs and her sex is pressed right up against the base of your cock, the thin wet fabric hiding nothing. Your dick is positioning perfectly to prod her belly button, and she giggles as it pulses in time with your heartbeat.

"Do you want me to take these panties off?"

"Yes," you reply immediately.

She reaches down and begins stoking you, pressing you up against the smooth cotton. "Do you want me to ride you? Do you want me to hop onboard your big, manly dick and bounce up and down until we are both too sore to move? Do you want me to wrap my legs around you and squeeze tight as I cum all over your big fat cock, screaming until I can not scream anymore?"

She grinds her pussy against you, mashing her clit against your shaft as she rolls her hips back and forth. Her rhythm is upbeat, and she lets out a pleased hum.

"Anything," you say.

"Wrong answer," she says playfully, still stroking you. She dips her other hand into her panties and plays with herself while she continues to grind you. All her movements are in tune, playing to a beat only she can hear.

"I am tired from the concert," she says, not that she shows it. "And I am tired of being surrounded by people who are paid to do what I tell them to do. For once I would like for somebody else to be in charge!"

You think you get it now. "You don't want to take the lead," you say. "You'd rather have someone else take over. Pull their own weight. Right?"

"Yes, yes!" she says excitedly.

You grab hold of her hands to interrupt her movement, and, reluctantly, push her away. She stands up and you follow, yielding the couch to her.

"Lay down," you command her, and she obeys. As she reclines she hooks two thumbs into her waistband, slowly sliding her soiled panties down to her thighs. You join her on the couch, standing on your knees, as she pulls her underwear down past her ankles before allowing her legs to fall to the sides, at last exposing her hairless pussy. Her hip bones are angular yet feminine, and you notice you left a tiny trail of precum just below her belly button, the only blemish on her perfect little belly.

She tosses her panties away as she lays down on the couch, and she lets out a long contented sigh. She's actually still for once, for the first time since the start of the concert, and you wonder what it's like to be her. Always moving, always creating, always… doing. No wonder she's always smiling. 

Her eyes are still twinkling and her legs are spread and inviting, and you don't know what you're waiting for. You bend over her, positioning yourself at her entrance as she guides you one-handed towards her most intimate place. But a final, tiny worry forms in the back of your mind.

"I don't have any…" you begin.

"I am on the pill," she says abruptly. "It is hard to go on tour if you are pregnant." 

"Oh," you say, feeling foolish.

"Unless that ruins the mood for you," she says. "Then let's say that I am not on the pill."

"…but you are, though?"

She just giggles, and you feel your concern eroding away. It's impossible to argue with Noodle, especially with your dick mere inches from her exposed pussy.

"Just put it in already," she says, "and try not to worry too much. I can handle anything."

You hesitate for exactly one second longer before throwing caution to the wind. You press yourself up against her and she's already so wet that you slide in with ease. She lets out a hiss, but she's still smiling so you don't stop. You push in a fraction more and suddenly you slide into the teenage rockstar all the way to the hilt. 

She makes a sound that's not quite a moan or a grunt, more of an undignified "ghuuah." For an intimate moment, she seems to have lost her composure and you swear you can see the shape of yourself outlined beneath her belly button. She's staring at the ceiling and you think she's seeing stars. It's cute as heck and you're not even sure if she's okay, but then you lock eyes again and she gives you a single nod to carry on.

You grab her hips to stabilize yourself as you pull out and adjust your position on the couch. With proper leverage, you rear back and begin to fuck her. Within moments Noodle is squirming beneath you, her tiny tits heaving in time with her heavy breath. Your hips connect and her modest ass recoils as the two of you make the whole couch creak. She's bucking her pelvis into yours and she clenches impossibly tight every time you pull out. Her tummy heaves and she plays with her own nipples, and there's no rhythm to any of her movements now. You're reaching deep into her core, impossibly hot, gratuitously wet, every square inch of her pulsing with energetic tension.

You press your bodies together, and she wraps her arms around you. Her breasts are mashed up against your chest and you want to kiss her but she's just a little too small for your mouths to line up. She's totally pinned beneath you, rocking her head side to side madly as she holds on for dear life. She screws her eyes shut and she goes tense and still as she cums hard underneath you. All the adrenaline from the concert must have gotten her on the edge long before you started.

You're almost at your limit again as Noodle finally goes semi-limp. You try to warn her you're about to cum, but Noodle isn't here right now, so you decide you had better stop before you go over the precipice. You pull free from her with a wet schlick and you lean back against the other arm of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Noodle is laying on the couch in front of you, panting heavily and staring off into space with her hair a mess and her whole body flushed. You decide to give her a minute.

From out in the hallway, you hear a door open and the distant stomping of a large man. Another door opens, and you briefly hear muffled shouting between Russel and Murdoc, before a slammed door silences it again.

After enough time passes for you to cool down a little, you turn Noodle over so she's laying on her stomach. You lift her rear and nudge her forward, and she allows herself to be set on her knees with her torso resting on the arm of the couch. You scoot forward and line your pelvises up, spreading her cheeks with your thumb. Your manhood is still slick with her juices as you press yourself gently up against her backdoor-

"Don't even think about it," she says coyly.

-before deciding that anal would be pushing your luck, Noodle's pussy is better anyway. You rub yourself gently against her lower lips and she quivers. You catch a glimpse of the two of you in the mirror, her eyes half-closed with a contented smile, her body totally relaxed and calm for once, with you and your cock ready to skewer her once more. From the angle the proportions looks different, and you can't imagine how you managed to fit all the way into such a small girl.

You push yourself in gently, and you see her toes scrunch up. She's still super sensitive from before, but she does nothing to resist you, bucking her hips backward the last inch or so. You were already so close before, you know you won't last long as you begin to piston in and out of her. Somehow she's even hotter than before, tighter than before, her pussy still drooling with need.

She's panting again and she says something in Japanese that you're pretty sure meant "fuck me!" You bend over her, still clenching her hips with both hands, hammering her pussy like you're trying to break her. She tenses again and you see her hands ball up into little fists as she bangs them uselessly against the side of the couch. You're not sure if she's cumming again or just riding out an aftershock from the first time. Either way you know you're close too.

"Noodle-!" you try to warn her.

"Together!" she chokes out, and you're happy to oblige.

You finally stab yourself as deep as you can reach, and she wriggles her hips backwards into you as you start to cum. The first shot of messy seed is like fire and she lets out a sharp gasp as you spill inside of her. You cum so hard you're worried you might hurt her, and she's so wet you can hardly tell where she ends and you begin. Noodle is too tight, too tiny, and as you pulse nearly a dozen rounds into her core you hear a drip or two leaking out from around her pussy. Her lips are unable to contain the mess you've made as your seed coats every inch of her insides, some of it spilling onto the couch. You feel her squeezing you for every last drop you can provide and you're happy to deliver, your mind lost in a haze of everything that's happened here. Finally her knees give out and she collapses beneath you, and as you slide out you spurt one final aftershot that lands on the small of her back.

You collapse backwards and lay against the opposite arm of the couch, trying to catch your breath. After a moment she rolls over, and as your senses return you stare into each other's eyes once again. She hasn't stopped smiling during all this, and god if you wouldn't do anything to protect that smile.

"SECURITY!!!" she screams suddenly. The smile is still there, but now it's a smile of mischief, with no warmth.

"Wha…?" you manage to ask, your universe still centered on the girl whose pussy is still visibly leaking your cum.

The door bangs open, and the bouncer from before is standing there, the roadie behind him. The roadie is barking something into a walkie talkie as the bouncer pulls you off the couch. As you're dragged away, you stare at the soiled teenage rockstar, speechless. You want to ask why. You wonder, briefly, if this is some kind of delusion. Finally, she speaks.

"That was a lot of fun, cutie! I will be sure they send you a copy of our next album to play in your prison cell!"

You're dragged into the hall and Noodle disappears from view. You're never going to get this close to her again.

You guess she just likes messing with people.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this fic for fucking ages. Thank you to that anon who got trips for providing some very helpful feedback regarding the reader basically worshiping Noodle to an obnoxious degree, feedback regarding Noodle's Japanese accent, and a bunch of other details. Feedback like yours is invaluable and I wouldn't be half the writer I am without it.
> 
> Also thank you to the anon who said the first rough draft "read quintessentially Shakespearean with a graceful touch of Hemingway." I'm sure you were being sarcastic but I'm going to say thank you anyway.


End file.
